by Eileen Brady
“Well, I’ve got some more tests to run, so if you don’t mind waiting here…” I broke off my sentence, not sure what else to say.
“Thank you, Dr. Kate. You’re an angel.” He wiped his eyes with a massive hand and rolled the chair closer to his pet. “This way she’ll see me.”
I pulled a white lab coat over my sweatshirt and got down to work. About ten minutes later the hospital quiet was shattered by a loud snore. Pinky had fallen into an exhausted sleep, one hand on the cage, the other across his belly.
Most of what I knew about our snowplowing neighbor came from our receptionist.
Cindy had described Pinky, whom she’d known for over twenty years, as a gigantic toddler. She avoided any clinical terms like autistic or on the spectrum. Those descriptions were kept only for family to use in some of these rural areas. The toy poodle had been his and his mother’s pride and joy for the past thirteen years. It had fallen to Pinky, an only child and unmarried, to live with his failing mom and take care of her until she passed away a year ago. Since then, he’d only had his beloved dog for company.
Just Pinky and his Princess.
* * *
While he slept, I called the emergency clinic, which revealed some bad news. Their power had gone out due to a fallen tree, and the backup generator had failed to kick in. With no electricity or heat, they were closed and in the process of transferring their remaining patients even farther away from us.
By now it was seven a.m. and I’d heard the snowplows rumbling since early morning light. With no emergency clinic to pick up the slack, I did the next best thing. I called Mari.
When the phone picked up, all I heard was barking. Her pregnant Rottweiller, Lucy, had decided the phone was evil. “Just a minute,” she yelled into the receiver. Muffled sounds followed until all was quiet. “Alright, is that better?”
“Hey, I hate to ask you…”
“What’s the emergency?” she interrupted. “This better be good.”
“It’s Pinky.”
“Princess? Oh, no. He must be a wreck.”
That was one of the many things I liked about Mari, her big warm heart for pets and their people.
“Probable congestive heart failure, maybe complicated by kennel cough. She was groomed recently, so that’s a possibility. Can’t transfer her because the emergency clinic had to close. Power failure.”
“Of course I’ll help. When do you need me?” Bad weather never bothered her. Her gigantic four-wheel drive with oversized snow tires came complete with chains.
“How about later today, so I can get some sleep? The roads should be clear by then.”
“Where’s Pinky?”
“Asleep in the treatment room. Can’t you hear him?” I held my phone up and sure enough, he rewarded us with a gigantic snore.
“See?” Mari laughed. “And you thought you’d be all alone this weekend.”
* * *
True to her word, Mari spelled me off, providing great care to our only patient. Pinky left early Sunday morning to finish plowing out his customers but came back every two or three hours, never empty-handed. He must have stopped in every store that was open, because I received an odd assortment of gifts, from a hula-girl keychain to a Halloween-size bag of Snickers bars.
Each time he visited, Princess stood up and wagged her tail, already feeling better. Of course she turned her nose up at the special dog food for cardiac patients, preferring to eat the roasted rotisserie chicken Pinky brought with him. We showed him how to mix the prescription food with a little bit of people food so Princess would eat it. He was under orders to then slowly increase the heart diet food and decrease the people food.
“You’re a miracle worker, Dr. Kate. She’s hardly coughing at all.”
His enthusiasm needed to be tempered with some facts. “Pinky, Princess has a very common problem we find in older dogs.” The more I talked about enlarged hearts putting stress on the lungs and the need for special diets and medication, the more his eyes glazed over. It would take time to process all this. The folder of information Mari prepared for him to read lay unopened on the counter.
“I’d like Princess to have a cardiology consultation and ultrasound,” I said.
“Pinky, I’ll help you make the appointment, if you like. Your schedule must be crazy right now.” Mari patted her friend on his arm. “And thanks for plowing me out.”
“You’re welcome, Mari.”
I gave Mari a thumbs-up for her suggestion. Poor Pinky looked exhausted and overwhelmed. “The veterinarian I’m sending you to in Kingston is board-certified in cardiology, and their office isn’t that far away,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll get their info. Be right back,” Mari told him. She left for the reception area, whistling in the hallway.
Pinky watched her leave.
“I’ve included a diet you can cook for her at home, too, if you want.” The jolt from too many chocolate bars gobbled up to stay awake had started to fade. Maybe I could squeeze in a nap, since I’d be up most of the night checking on Princess. Over my shoulder I heard Mari coming back. “Alright, Mari will take it from here. I’m going to take a nap.” I’d almost made it out of the treatment area when I heard Pinky’s high-pitched voice.
“Dr. Kate, if there’s anything I can do for you…anything…let me know. I’ve always known you were a wonderful person, an angel, and…I’d kill anyone who’s mean to you or hurts you.”
Chapter Eleven
The alarm on the nightstand jolted me awake. Not quite recovered from my long night, I sleepily entered the hospital break room, lured by the welcome fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. Cindy constantly surprised us with premium blends, and this morning’s eye-opener smelled of hazelnuts. My unaccustomed gift of free time from the snowstorm was over. I’d been warned we were completely booked.
With Princess stabilized and the weather improved, things quickly got back to normal. Ever-efficient Cindy had secured a cardiology appointment for a reluctant Pinky, with Mari serving as his wing man.
By the second cup of coffee my eyes sprang wide open. Another client had gifted us with a tin of homemade granola, which I ate with some fresh apple slices provided by health-conscious Cindy. The caffeine and the brown-sugared cereal did their jobs. Full of temporary energy, I’d already run through my morning email and checked lab results when Cindy knocked on the door of my office.
“Compliments on your coffee choice this morning,” I told her. “It’s my favorite so far.”
The usually chatty Cindy appeared subdued. “I heard Pinky’s been saying some odd things.”
“Not really.” It was too early in the morning to go there. Soon, I’d be so involved in medical cases I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else. With a mental push I shoved everything related to Frank and Eloise and holiday selfish wishes and Pinky killing my enemies into that already-crowded problems drawer in my brain.
“Let’s talk later. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
She didn’t look pleased.
“Oh, listen,” I said to distract her. “‘Deck the Halls.’ My favorite.”
With a phony smile on my face, I walked over to exam room one, knocked, then entered to see my first client of the day.
The problem was that the mental drawer kept popping open unexpectedly throughout the day, and all the unanswered questions inside insisted on waving their little hands at me.
* * *
Finished with morning appointments, safe in my office, I took a bite of my turkey sandwich on rye, finally enjoying a moment of down time, when Mari interrupted me.
“You busy?” Her head poked in first before the rest followed.
“That depends.” My mouth continued its trajectory toward the sandwich target. Usually when people ask me if I’m busy it means they’ve got something they want me to do. Immediately.
“Someone in the parking lot needs to see you.”
“Ahhh, no. An emergency? Do we need a stretcher?” I stood up, rammed the last bit of sandwich in my mouth, and washed it down with coffee.
“Sit down,” Mari said. “It’s nothing like that.” She closed the half-open office door. “I’m not sure you’re going to like…”
A million horrible scenarios ran in and out of my head. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Jeremy is here.”
“Jeremy?” That was the one scenario that hadn’t occurred to me. “What does he want?” My old college buddy, turned boyfriend, turned cheating boyfriend, had been persona non grata to me for the last month, despite his several apologies and imaginative excuses for his bad behavior. I’d blocked him from my phone, social media, and everywhere I could.
My assistant paced back and forth before gingerly taking a seat. I wondered how long she’d chatted with him in the parking lot and how high he’d turned up the old charm.
“He’s got a Christmas present for you.”
“Well, you know what he can do with it.” To stop our discussion, I poured more coffee and began entering some notes on the computer. If I thought that would end the matter, I was wrong.
“Actually, he has presents for all of us.” Her voice perked up, a willing victim of Jeremy’s bribes. “Godiva chocolates and all sorts of delicious things.”
It was nice to know how little it took to win the staff over.
When that didn’t work, she rationalized, “Hey, you have to face him sometime. We start in fifteen minutes or so, and the first two appointments are in the waiting room staring at your old boyfriend and his Mercedes in the parking lot. Please, can we just get this over with?”
Despite feeling waylaid, I saw her point. He’d been a big part of my life and I missed him. I’d been thinking of calling him up and wishing him a happy holiday season—testing to see if we might revert back to just being friends.
“Alright.” I logged out of the computer. “But I’m going out through my apartment. No need to let the whole town know.” As if that wouldn’t happen.
Her head nodded in agreement. “Smart idea. Good luck.”
Good luck. I certainly could use some, but it wasn’t in the cards.
* * *
Throwing my warmest coat on and raising the woolly hood over my head, I left the apartment and snuck around the side of the hospital toward the main parking lot. Sure enough, Jeremy lounged against the hood of his Mercedes holding a box with a glittery gold bow. A professor of anthropology, he had an Indiana Jones thing going that he cultivated to the max. I tried to surreptitiously gesture him to come over to me, but instead he saw me and waved.
“Kate, thanks for coming out here.” His voice exuded warmth. “I’m really glad to see you.”
“You could have texted me first, instead of surprising the whole staff.” My tone of voice sounded anything but friendly. Glancing over to the hospital entrance, I noticed a mob of people staring out the picture window at us.
“Did you forget you blocked me?” He followed my glance. “Hey, we’ve got an audience.” Then to my horror he waved at everyone, a great big wave.
For some reason that wave pushed my buttons. Angry, I whirled around, amazed he had no respect for my privacy.
“Okay, I admit, this might have been a bad idea.” Jeremy circled around to head me off. “At least take my present.” With a sad puppy-dog look on his face, he held the red-and-gold wrapped gift out to me. I hated that face.
On impulse I grabbed the gift, walked over to the dumpster and threw it in. The metal top slammed down as I said, “Happy Holidays.”
The audience at the window had horrified looks on their faces.
Fueled by my emotions, I stomped off, shooing away his outstretched hand. Jeremy appeared astonished at my actions. Still annoyed, I pulled open the apartment door, and just as I was about to slam it for effect, I noticed Pinky standing in his driveway, staring at us. Embarrassed, I gave him a little wave and silently shut the door.
* * *
“Don’t say anything,” I admonished Cindy and Mari, who rushed into the treatment room after watching our argument through the reception picture window along with everyone else.
“You should take this weekend to relax. Maybe get a massage.” Cindy busied herself with straightening up while catching sideways looks at me. “I’m afraid this will be a hot topic in town tonight.”
“So what else is new? Just pile it onto everything else.”
Mari handed me my stethoscope, and both my friends took off.
Ready to start afternoon appointments, I caught a glimpse of myself in the employee lounge mirror. My straight blond hair was sticking up, electrified from being under the wool hood of the coat. I plastered it down with a little water. Anxious eyes stared back at me, my supposed resemblance to Meryl Streep barely noticeable. The lip gloss in my pocket, worn down to the nub, broke off while applying it. When I threw the remainder in the garbage can, it rattled around in protest.
After a few more breaths I’d started to calm down, when the speakers came to life with a loud and lively chorus of “On the First Day of Christmas.” I replaced their words with my own.
Two dead clients, one ex-boyfriend, and a present dumped in the trash.
* * *
The ringing noise started at three a.m. and woke me up. Was it Pinky again? Then I realized no one was at the door. I fished around for the cell phone.
“Hello?” My brain still felt mushy with sleep.
“Is this Dr. Kate Turner?” asked an unfamiliar voice.
I bolted straight up in bed. “Has something happened to my grandfather?” I’d been dreading this kind of call in the middle of the night. “Did he fall?”
“This is Kingston Hospital admitting. We have a Jeremy Engels here, who has asked us to call you.”
“Jeremy?” The clouds lifted as I switched into emergency mode. “Was he in a car accident? How is he?” My studio apartment felt claustrophobic.
Hesitation on the line. Why were they hesitating? Visions of mangled arms and legs made me leap out of bed and reach for my scrubs.
A voice came back on the line. “Just checking that he signed a release for medical information to you. HIPAA rules.”
I knew all about the HIPAA rules. “Is he okay?”
“He’s got a head injury and contusions on his arms where he fought off his attacker.”
“His attacker?” Now I was completely confused.
Again, there was a muffled silence, before the voice explained, “I’m sorry. That’s all the information I can give you at the moment. You are free to visit him.”
“What room is he in?” I pulled on my boots and searched for my purse and backpack, trying to figure out what I needed.
“You’ll have to check at the information desk.” Then, just before she hung up, she added an incongruous “Have a nice day.”
Taking Buddy out before I left reminded me of the freezing temperatures and to get some warm gloves. I had no idea about the parking situation at the Kingston Hospital.
Our automatic motion detector light flipped on when I opened the door, casting a yellowish light on the animal hospital parking lot, which to my surprise had been newly plowed by Pinky. He’d even brushed the snow from the windshield of the hospital’s old F-150 truck.
Grateful for his kindness, my thoughts focused on my injured friend.
It wasn’t until later that I questioned Pinky’s intentions.
Chapter Twelve
The Kingston Hospital parking lot surprised me by being half full at 4:15 in the
morning. I walked through the crowded emergency room only to have to wait in line to ask a question.
Once more I was grateful to be a veterinarian instead of a human medical doctor. Sick children cuddled limply in their parents’ arms. Scattered among the crowd were the injured, with stark white bandages wrapped around various body parts, a few speckled with blood. As I scanned the people waiting, my eye first passed, then went back to a middle-aged man sitting alone in the corner. Beads of sweat were visible on his forehead, and his right hand pressed tightly against his chest. Overweight and pale, he looked to me like a heart attack waiting to happen.
By then I’d reached the top of the line.
“I’m Dr. Kate Turner,” I said. “I’d like the room number of Jeremy Engels, please.”
“Certainly, Doctor,” the woman said, taking a quick look at my scrubs underneath my coat.
“Oh, and you might send the triage nurse to look at that gentleman in the corner in the blue shirt,” I said, turning toward him. The man had closed his eyes, a look of discomfort on his face.
She quickly followed my glance, then picked up the phone.
* * *
Jeremy looked better than I’d imagined when I opened the door to his room.
“Hi, Kate,” he said cheerily. “Sorry to get you up in the middle of the night.”
“You always were dramatic,” I told him before reaching for his hand, careful to avoid the intravenous line taped to the inside of his arm.
“Didn’t see him at all,” he confided, sipping from his glass of water. “He jumped me when I was opening the car door.”
I brushed a lock of brown hair from his forehead. Against the white pillow his skin appeared bruised and swollen, peppered with small bloody scrapes. “Have you spoken to the police? Can you identify your assailant?”
A confused look crossed his face. “No and no. I think the noise of people coming around the corner scared him off. By then I was down on the ground, my nose in the gravel.”